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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313091">Sage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Jaci4Narnia'>Jaci4Narnia (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sage [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Slavery, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Slavery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:56:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Jaci4Narnia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kendrick, a gruff mountain man, buys a slave on the impulse that the boy looks like his dead son.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sage [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sapphire Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really hope y'all enjoy this story! Please comment if you'd like more! This is my first time writing this kind of dark fiction and I really hope I did a good job! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kendrick pushed his way through the crowd, cursing under his breath. Of course, they had to be holding an auction on the only day of the year he came down from the mountains to get supplies. The shops were packed with people-mostly visitors from the next towns over- and the streets were crowded with horses, wagons, and dogs who ran about nipping at the heels of pedestrians. Children ran underfoot, chased by their frazzled mothers. The quiet town had turned into a center for chaos and Kendrick disliked it immensely.  </p><p>    “Hear about the slave auction, Kendrick?” called an old man as Kendrick stalked down the street.  </p><p>   Kendrick paused and turned to the man. “No, I didn’t. I live up in the mountains. We don’t get much news of what’s going on here in the valley.” He averted his gaze to the village square, where the auction was being held. A hastily constructed platform rose above the crowd and a man, dressed in a threadbare suit, was yelling something that Kendrick didn’t understand. Next to the man in the suit was a young woman, wearing nothing but a thin shift. Her feet and hands were chained together, and she was weeping. Now, Kendrick had no love for slavery, but he was not against it. For him, it was just an essential part of life. If he wasn’t going to own a slave, that didn’t mean that others couldn’t own one either. “Choice,” he called it. But something about that hopeless void in the woman’s green eyes made his stomach turn over.  </p><p>    “Most of ‘em are barbarians,” the old man continued, his eyes twinkling. “Our duke won a big battle. Got all these prisoners. My, just look at them! They’re practically savages. Better be careful. They might rip you apart when your back is turned.” He slapped his knee, giggling hysterically. </p><p>   With a sigh, Kendrick turned away from the old man. “I’d best be going,” he muttered, all too eager to get away from the uncomfortable conversation. He started down the path that led out of town, determined to get out as fast as he could, but suddenly, a heart-rending cry tore through noise and he stopped.  </p><p>    A burly man was dragging a slave up onto the platform. The slave was a young male, perhaps not older than sixteen. He had tousled, raven-black curls that hung over his teary, large, sapphire-blue eyes. His face was heart-shaped; his nose sprinkled with a few freckles. Skeleton-thin, the boy wore a thin shirt that barely covered him up. Kendrick could see purple bruises on the boy’s legs and arms.  </p><p> “P-Please!” the boy sobbed, stumbling over the chains around his ankles and falling to the ground.  </p><p>   The burly man grabbed the boy by the arm and slapped him across the face. “Quiet, whore!” he growled, yanking the boy to his feet. “Quiet, or I’ll beat the shit out of you!”  </p><p>     With a violent shudder, the boy swallowed hard and his gaze lowered to the ground. Kendrick saw the boy’s shoulders hitching with quiet sobs.  </p><p>    Something about the boy’s pleading gaze kept Kendrick glued to his spot. He’d never been interested in slaves before, but this boy was different. His face.... it reminded him of the son he had lost years ago. The boy had the same dark curls and blue eyes. The familiar ache in his heart started up again and Kendrick looked away. Clenching his fists, he drew in a shuddering breath. “Don’t think... don’t think...”  </p><p>    “This little whore is fully broken in!” the auctioneer shouted. “He’s going for 100 for starters. Why, just look at those curls! He’s a real bargain for one so attractive!”  </p><p>    Kendrick found himself reaching into his money pouch. “What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered, counting out some coins. “Come on, Kendrick, get a hold of yourself! This boy isn’t worth your time!” But he looked into those mournful blue eyes, welling with tears, and his throat constricted. “I bid 100!” he shouted, holding up his money.  </p><p>    The crowd turned to Kendrick, glaring at him with critical eyes. Who in their right mind would buy a broken, used sex slave?  </p><p>   The auctioneer’s eyes lit up and he laughed. “I’ve got a 100! Anyone else?” </p><p>   A tall man, dressed in the fine clothes of a nobleman, stepped forward, grinning cruelly. “I bid 200! I want that little whore! I want to hear him scream when I fuck him in his little ass!” he exclaimed and the crowd around him tittered.  </p><p>    Kendrick gritted his teeth, struggling to hold back his anger. “I bid 250!” Could he go any higher? Yes... but that would mean he’d have to dig into the savings he’d set aside for a new axe. “That doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “We’re talking about a human life here.”  </p><p>    “300!” the nobleman said, winking at Kendrick.  </p><p>   “300 for a used sex slave!?!” the auctioneer exclaimed, spluttering with surprise. “Hopefully the little whore makes up for all that money you’re paying for him!” </p><p>     “Oh, he will.” The nobleman turned his cruel, green eyes on Kendrick and Kendrick could see the lust in their depths.  </p><p>  He couldn’t let this man have the boy. He wouldn’t let the man have the boy.  </p><p>  “400!”  </p><p> A hush settled on the crowd.  </p><p>  The nobleman, shaking his head and cursing, blended back into the crowd. </p><p>Recovering from his shock, the auctioneer shouted, “Sold!” </p><p>   Kendrick, fingering his money, hurried over to pay and collect his slave.  </p><p>  The man handling the money squinted up at him. “I can’t believe you want that little whore! He’s disobedient and cries all the time,” he said. “Though, I suppose he will be fun to fuck.” </p><p>   “I don’t plan on fucking him,” Kendrick muttered, slapping down his money.  </p><p>  The same burly man on the platform brought the boy to Kendrick. He threw the boy roughly to the ground. “Good luck with this one, mate. He’s a wildcat.” </p><p>   “He looks like a scared child,” Kendrick replied, looking down at the boy.  </p><p>   The child was sobbing, his thin shoulders shaking.  </p><p>“Address your new master properly, whore!” the burly man shouted, prodding the boy with a booted foot.  </p><p>  “M-Master,” the boy whispered, his lower lip trembling.  </p><p>  Kendrick knelt and cupped the boy’s face. “It’s okay,” he said as gently as he could. “I won’t hurt you. My name is Kendrick.” He noticed that the boy’s bottom lip was cut and bleeding profusely. The poor child had probably been chewing on it out of terror. Using the hem of his shirt, Kendrick dabbed at the blood. The boy remained still, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Looks like you’ve had a hard time at it.” Kendrick lifted the boy’s arm and winced at the plethora of bruises marring the pale skin. “What caused this?” he asked.  </p><p>   “We had to beat him, sir. Wouldn’t stop crying,” the burly man replied. “Little shit is rebellious.” </p><p>  “You would beat a child?” Kendrick asked incredulously. He noticed the boy was shivering in his wet rags and he pulled off his coat and put it around the boy’s shoulders. “Stand up, boy, if you can.”  </p><p>    Whimpering, the boy staggered to his feet and grimaced.  </p><p>  Kendrick walked all the way around the boy, studying his broken, abused body. He was sure that under the thin shirt the boy wore were even more wounds, but he would have to look at those later. “Well, how old are you?” </p><p>    “I-I don’t know, sir. I-I think I’m nearly seventeen, but I don’t rightly remember when my birthing day was.” The slave swallowed and looked fearfully into Kendrick’s eyes.  </p><p>    “That’s all right, boy.” Despite himself, Kendrick reached out and tousled the unruly black curls. “What’s your name?” It was a stupid question, he knew, for slaves didn’t have names- or, real names, at least. Of course, their masters called them ‘fuck-toy’ or ‘whore’ as in the boy’s case, but did this boy ever have a proper name?  </p><p>    “No, M-Master.” The boy laced his long, pale fingers together and flexed them nervously.  </p><p> “Well...” Kendrick paused and drew in a deep breath. “You look like a Sage.” And he had to turn away so that the boy could not see his tears. “Sage is your name from now on.” </p><p>     The boy’s features relaxed and his eyes widened. “S-Sage?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he could hardly believe his ears. “M-My name is Sage? Oh, master! Thank you! Thank you! I never had a real name in my whole life! Thank you!” Tears spilled down the boy’s cheeks and he brushed them away. “You are so kind, master, so kind!” And he reached out his dirty hand and grasped Kendrick’s big one. “Thank you so much!” </p><p>   Kendrick patted the boy’s hand. “You’re welcome, boy. Now, I think it’s time to go home.” </p><p>  “Home,” the boy whispered, as if it was the most delicious word in the world. “Home...”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well... hope you enjoy this next chapter! <br/>Please comment and tell me if you have any suggestions etc!<br/>I'm always happy to listen! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is my home... and now it’s yours too,” Kendrick said, throwing the door of his small cabin open. “It’s not fancy or anything, but it’s real cozy.” He stepped inside then realized that the slave had not followed him. Sage was standing on the doorstep, peering into the cabin with wide, frightened eyes. “Come on, Sage. It’s all right,” he coaxed gently.  </p>
<p>    “I ain’t scared, m-master,” the boy stuttered, cautiously tiptoeing into the cabin. “It’s just... It’s so perfect... Beautiful.” Sage licked his lips and placed one hand on the smooth, polished doorframe. “Never seen such a nice house. Even the mansions of my former masters couldn’t compare to this.” Then, he started, as if suddenly realizing that he had spoken without permission. He clapped a hand over his mouth, cowering. “I-I’m sorry for talking, m-master!” Those beautiful blue eyes again welled with tears.  </p>
<p>     Kendrick laughed. “Talk all you want. I don’t mind. It gets mighty lonely up here. I’m the only human. Only got my old nag to talk to.” He took a match and lit a lamp. A warm glow spread throughout the cabin, illuminating the shadows. The cabin was small, made of rough-hewn boards, and had only two windows. There was a ladder leading up to a small loft where Kendrick’s bed was. The kitchen was in the corner of the main floor, occupied by a small stove. The rest of the cabin was filled up with the table and chairs and a stack of animal pelts. “Well... I suppose introductions are due. My name is Kendrick. You can call me that. I don’t like that ‘master’ stuff.”  </p>
<p>     Sage bit his lip. “Y-yes m-I mean, Kendrick.”  </p>
<p>   “Good. And I’ll call you Sage. Enough with ‘little whore’ or whatever other horrible names those bastards called you.” Kendrick walked over to the stove and lit it. “I’m going to put on some water to boil. Got some squirrel meat I haven’t used yet. We’ll have squirrel stew for supper.” Then he paused and looked about the small cabin. “Gotta make you a bed of some sort. You can sleep in the corner by the stove. It gets right cozy at night.” He took a few pelts from the pile of furs and spread them out on the floor by the stove. “I have an extra quilt if you’d like it.” </p>
<p>    Sage was again chewing at his lip. “T-Thank you, master,” he ventured.  </p>
<p> “Kendrick,” Kendrick corrected. “Would you like the quilt?” </p>
<p>   “This is just fine, sir... if you please.”  </p>
<p>  Something told Kendrick that this boy had never spent a warm night, cuddled under a blanket by a stove. “Oh, I’ll get you the quilt. Besides, these mountain nights are cold. You’ll need it.” He retrieved the quilt from a chest nearby and spread it out on top of the furs. “There. That ought to keep you warm and cozy.” </p>
<p>    “T-Thank you so much, sir,” Sage whimpered, falling to his knees. He reached out one skeleton-thin arm and stroked the furs, marveling at their softness. “N-Never had a bed like this... never in all my life.” Then, he doubled over, sobbing like a lost child.  </p>
<p>    Kendrick cleared his throat uncomfortably. He wasn’t very good at figuring out other’s emotions or soothing them, but something within compelled him to kneel beside the boy and lay a hand on the trembling shoulders. “What’s the matter, Sage?” he asked gently.  </p>
<p>    Sage lifted his tear-stained face. “I-I don’t know, sir... I d-don't know,” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around his knees. “T-thank you... I’ll be good, I promise... I’ll do whatever you want... You can use me...”  </p>
<p>   Kendrick grimaced. “Now, Sage, I think we need to settle some things. First, you can stop thanking me. Second, I’m not going to use you... ever. I think you’ve been used quite enough. It’s time for that to stop. Third, I don’t want a slave. Hell, I own you, but I’m never going to hurt you. I would never hurt another human being.  What I need is.... is friendship, Sage, and maybe I could be that to you too.” He swallowed hard, realizing that he had just spoken too much.  </p>
<p>    Those sapphire-blue eyes probed Kendrick’s face, reminding him so much of his dear, dead son. “N-No one’s asked for my friendship before... They’ve asked for my body... but never my friendship... never the real me,” he whispered.  </p>
<p>   Kendrick felt his heart ache at those words, spoken with such sorrow and sincerity, and he stood up. The boy reminded him too much of his son. For the first time since he’d brought the boy home, he wondered if it had been such a good idea to buy Sage. Would he tormented for his deed by seeing the face of his dead son every time he looked at Sage’s face?  He balled his hands into fists and drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to go draw some water. I-I'll be back.” He stepped out of the cabin, leaving Sage huddled on the floor. </p>
<p>   The broken, abused boy, his eyes shining with hope and tears, buried his face in the furs and wept.  </p>
<p> Outside, just a few paces away, an older man collapsed to his knees, unable to contain his sobs anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mountain Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, Sage's got a past... a mysterious past.<br/>Hope you like this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Dream:</p><p>   “Kendrick!”  </p><p>Kendrick, unable to move, watched as his wife was dragged across the ground by two men wearing black masks. “Lydia!” he screamed, tears freely falling down his cheeks. He longed to race to her, swallowing up the distance between them, and rescue her from those brutes, but a sword pressed to his back kept him in place. Clenching his fists, he watched through teary eyes as the men tied Lydia’s hands and ankles together. “D-Don’t hurt her!” he pleaded.  </p><p>   “Quiet, scum!” one of the men exclaimed. “We’ll do with her as we please and if you even move a finger, I’ll have my man run you through.” He began fumbling with his pants, cursing under his breath. In the light of the pale moon, Kendrick saw the pure terror in Lydia’s blue eyes. “Spread those legs for me, whore,” the man said, falling to his knees in front of Lydia.  </p><p>  “N-No,” Lydia whimpered, trying to scoot away from the man.  </p><p>  “You’ll obey me now or I’ll tell them guards to kill your husband!” The man grabbed a fistful of Lydia’s black hair and yanked ferociously. “I’m going to use you in front of your husband, bitch. Let’s see how he’ll like that! Finally, sweet, sweet revenge.” He threw back his head and laughed-a nasty sound.  </p><p>   “We trusted you,” Kendrick spoke, his voice trembling slightly.  </p><p> “Well, you shouldn’t have.” And then the man thrust himself upon Lydia.  </p><p>  Kendrick closed his eyes, trying to block out her anguished cries and pleas for help.  </p><p>   “Mama!”  </p><p>  The heart-rending cry of a child echoed clearly in the dark clearing.  </p><p>“No! Sage!” Lydia screamed and Kendrick forced himself to open his eyes.  </p><p>To his horror, his little, four-year-old son was running naked across the clearing, tears streaming down his face, straight for his mother. “Sage! No! Get back!” he screamed, straining at the ropes that bound him. But the little boy continued his dash, sapphire-blue eyes wide with terror.  </p><p>    The man fucking Lydia withdrew himself from her and stood up, glaring at little Sage with greedy eyes. “Come here, you little shit!” he exclaimed, making a dive for the boy.  </p><p>   Sage darted out of reach and flung himself into his mother’s arms. “M-Mama!” he wailed.  </p><p>“Quiet, brat. You’ll wake the whole mountain with your screams,” the man said, grasping Sage by the shoulder. He ran his gaze up and down the little boy’s body. “He’s just a little rat.... of no use to us.” Then, slowly, deliberately, he drew his dagger from his belt. “Might as well put him out of his misery,” he said with a grin, displaying rows of rotting teeth.  </p><p> “No!” Lydia screamed.  </p><p>But her pleas were to no avail. </p><p>  Kendrick’s heart tore at the confused expression on his son’s little face. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of this.  </p><p>The dagger ripped into the child’s chest.  </p><p>Crimson blood sprayed everywhere.  </p><p>The little boy slumped to the ground with one final wail, beautiful blue eyes forever closed in death.  </p><p>Kendrick let out a scream to the heavens, cursing the gods. “No! Not my son! Not my son!”<br/>
************************************************************************</p><p> </p><p>“Sir? Sir?” </p><p>Someone was shaking his shoulder.  </p><p>Kendrick bolted upright; his entire body soaked with sweat.  </p><p> The figure at his bedside jumped back with a frightened whimper.  </p><p>For a moment, Kendrick thought he was back in that clearing, but as the fog in his brain slowly cleared, he looked into the frightened eyes of Sage. “Son?” he whispered, reaching out a hand. Was this a dream-a cruel trick of his mind? Was his son really standing before him, in the flesh, older but still the same? He looked into the piteous blue eyes, searching their depths.  </p><p>     Then, it came back to him.  </p><p>This wasn’t Sage.  </p><p>It was Sage.  </p><p>But not that Sage.  </p><p>His hand dropped to his side.  </p><p>“A-Are you okay, s-sir?” Sage ventured his entire body shaking. “I-I’m sorry I woke you b-but you were having a bad dream.” His blue eyes looked compassionate. “I’ve had plenty of bad dreams before. They aren’t fun.”  </p><p>    Kendrick ran a hand through his messy brown hair and sighed heavily. “Yes, I was having a bad dream.” He drew in a shaky breath. “The same one I’ve had every night since that.... that awful night.” This last part he said in a low whisper.  </p><p>    The slave boy clasped his hands together, looking very uncomfortable.  </p><p> “I gotta get up,” Kendrick mumbled. “The horse has got to be fed and the chores need to be done...” He pushed aside the coverlet and set his feet on the floor, meaning to stand up and get dressed. But he found himself frozen, unable to move. The horror of the dream was replaying in his mind. He could still see the pool of blood and those wide, uncomprehending eyes. “My son,” he whispered brokenly. “My precious son.” He buried his head in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. </p><p>Something was laid on his shoulder-a hand, light, feathery, but warm and gentle.  </p><p>  A small voice murmured something that Kendrick couldn’t make out. The sounds blended, creating a tune so familiar to Kendrick, that he looked up.  </p><p>“What’s that song?” he asked, knowing very well what the song was.  </p><p>The boy fingered the iron collar around his neck and gulped. “M-My mother taught it to me, sir. It’s called Mountain Moon. She said it was my father’s favorite song.... His father used to sing it to him when he was a little boy growing up in the mountains.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Never Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you like this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sage remembered his father clearly. Blue eyes, just like him, with a head of unruly black curls. His father had been his everything... his hero... his life, until the day he was killed. That day, Sage had felt as if his heart had shattered into a million pieces. A million words would not bring him back, Sage knew, and a million tears wouldn’t either. Finally, he accepted the truth that his father was gone.... gone forever. </p><p>    It was part of being a slave, he told himself. Family didn’t exist to slaves. At least, it wasn’t supposed to. He was lucky, he knew, that he’d been allowed to stay with his parents so long. “Don’t love... don’t feel,” he whispered to himself over and over. But he couldn’t do that. Nothing had prepared him for the loss of his parents. He longed more than ever to bring them back from the dead-a feat he knew was impossible.  </p><p>   When his father had died, his mother was never the same. She died not long after of a fever and Sage was left at the hands of his cruel master. The simpering man, attracted to Sage’s exotic looks, took the boy into his bedroom. That night, Sage lost his virginity. His sobs and pleas did nothing to stop the man from pushing his giant cock into his ass. When the night was over, Sage was unconscious, covered in blood. His master woke him up with some cold water. “Better get used to it, you little whore,” he said when Sage started to cry again.  </p><p>   For five long years, Sage endured the old man’s abuse. Every night, he was subjected to painful, sexual games and when he cried, his master laughed and hurt him even more. Then, one day, while he was preparing to fuck Sage, the old man keeled over and lay on the floor, color draining from his face. It took a long, agonizing hour until Sage realized that his tormentor was dead. He thought of running but where would he go? He was a slave, branded and marked with a collar. No one would dare take him in, and if they did, they would return him promptly. Sobbing quietly, Sage had sat down next to the body of his dead owner until some slaves came and took the corpse away.  </p><p>   “I don’t want you, you disgusting little whore,” the man’s wife said despite Sage’s pleads and cries to stay. “Go be someone else’s fuck-toy.”  </p><p>And the very next day, Sage was torn from the only home he’d ever known and dragged to the slave market.  </p><p>    Things didn’t get better for Sage.  </p><p>They got worse. </p><p>Shunted from owner to owner, abused miserably, and tortured until he wanted to die, Sage knew that his life would never change for the better. He was destined to spend the rest of his days getting fucked and appeasing some old coot’s sexual desires.  </p><p>   But this man... his new master...  He was different.  </p><p>  Kendrick was his master’s name.  </p><p>  And Kendrick looked startingly like Sage’s deceased father.  </p><p> Unlike his previous owners, Sage’s owner had not hit him or even touched him in a sexual way. He hadn’t even looked at him with the same, greedy, lustful look that all his other owners had given him. In fact, Kendrick had looked at him with kindness and pity, speaking gently. He’d even promised not to ever use Sage.  </p><p>But could he trust that? </p><p>All owners were the same, after all. </p><p>They said one thing than did the opposite. </p><p>Sage had learned from a very young age never to trust his owners.  </p><p> Was the man putting on a nice façade, only to catch Sage unaware and fuck him to death just when Sage’s trust had been earned? </p><p> Sage shuddered at the thought. He wanted to believe Kendrick was telling the truth. He wanted to with all of his heart. But a little voice in the back of his head kept whispering, “Don’t trust... don’t think... don’t feel.... don’t believe.” Sage grabbed a fistful of his dark curls and yanked on them, desperate to get the little voice out of his head. “No... no, I want to trust him... I want to!” he cried, his eyes welling with tears.  </p><p>But everyone he’d trusted before had betrayed his trust.  </p><p>Everyone he’d trusted had shattered his heart.  </p><p>Sage hadn’t believed that his heart could be broken anymore but he had been wrong.  </p><p>  He would never trust Kendrick, no matter how gentle the man’s voice was and how kind he was to Sage.  </p><p>A master was a master. </p><p>Kendrick owned him. </p><p>Everything that Sage was belonged to Kendrick.  </p><p>Kendrick had every lawful right to use his body, to beat him, and even to kill him if he pleased.  </p><p>Sage could never let down his guard.  </p><p>He’d learned from past mistakes and he wasn’t going to repeat history.</p>
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